Chasing Fate
by DeepShift
Summary: One who is undeserving of their destiny, One who was denied theirs, One who knows not their destiny and One whose destiny lies in warm, soft things. The tale of an unlikely Dark Souls venture. Praise the Crow. Description courtesy of, and story edited by the incredibly awesome NathanEryk, thanks buddy!
1. Chapter 1

The undead asylum was an exceptionally boring place. There was barely anyone to talk to, or at least, barely anyone who could _respond _with anything more than a gargling whimper. The only living beings around who weren't the aforementioned whimpering hollows were huge demons that would crush anybody who wandered too close! Well, them and a weird talking crow who kept asking for warm things, but everyone seemed to just ignore her.

It was because of this unforgiving lack of stuff to do, that Yorke of Reeds was stood just outside his cell, poking one of the hollows in its face with a stick he'd found lying on the floor. It wasn't much but at least it served to keep him mildly entertained. Watching the undead's face contort in confusion gave him a small amount of pleasure. It didn't seem sure if it should interpret this as an attack, so instead resumed wailing in hopes that it would scare the strange man away.

Finally deciding to leave the hollow alone he propped the stick against the wall and wandered back to his cell. It was a small place but he'd come to call it home, or something like that, ever since he'd awoken here with no real memory as to how he'd arrived. The cell was built quite poorly in all honesty, the door had literally fallen off it's hinges the second Yorke had prodded it, mere minutes after waking up. Still, he couldn't complain, it meant he had a lot more room to move than most of the hollows who seemed confined to their cells.

Murky water ran freely through the room, one of the less pleasant features of it's decor. Yorke had spent quite some time trying to figure out the source of it, but with no luck. The few times he thought he had found it just turned out to be rat holes who were extremely annoyed that he'd just blocked up their home with a piece of cloth. The plethora of scratch marks on his arms reminded him not to do so again.

Yorke took a look around, trying to figure out what he could do next. Perhaps he could try and explore one of the other wings of the asylum? He quickly shook that idea from his mind, the doors were all locked and even if they weren't, there was no way he could handle any of the potentially dangerous creatures in them. At least this place was safe, if boring.

That was out of the question then. Maybe he could go and try to hold a conversation with the crow? Again, no. Snuggly (as he'd begun referring to the crow) never seemed interested in talking about anything but warm and soft things. Yorke had once tried offering her this mucky doll he'd found in another cell, but the bird had refused it saying "No, no. That one belong to another." The little bird was freaking _impossible._

Also out of the question. Yorke really didn't want to deal with Snuggly's confusing needs. Maybe he could go and attempt a daring escape, fighting past the various undead and finally coming upon the great demon that guarded the exit, slicing him in two with only a broken sword hilt!

. . .

Yorke burst out laughing, nearly falling over in the process. His chuckles seemed entirely out of place in the dreary asylum, but that didn't stop him. He leaned against the wall, slowly collapsing to the floor as he giggled like a what reality would something as ridiculous as that ever happen!?

Still chuckling, Yorke stood back up, his mish-mash of armor clanking slightly as he grasped the wall of the room. Once he felt steady enough to move, he walked back out the cell. With nothing better in mind he decided to simply tour the cells again, in hopes of finding somebody new. Preferably someone un-hollowed too, that'd be nice.

As he wandered around, Yorke began to notice something odd. It seemed as though there was a sharp increase in the amount of corpses around today, not only that, but these ones weren't moving. For some reason this was unsettling, which in itself was also unsettling. A big clump of unsettle-y feelings which were not particularly welcome.

Pushing those incredibly confusing feelings to the back of his mind Yorke continued walking. He passed a great many cells on his way, but unfortunately none of them contained anything more than a gargling hollow or in the case of one cell, a particularly pretty rock. Still, that didn't exactly help him do anything, so he continued walking.

After a good five minutes of walking, Yorke noticed something. The floor was shaking. Violently. Not only that, but he was fairly certain that he could hear roaring coming from the Demon's room. This was not good. Yorke was torn as to whether or not he should investigate, but the question was answered for him when the roaring suddenly stopped, accompanied by the hissing sound which normally accompanied something's death.

The large door in the courtyard opened again, and a being wearing knight armor strolled through it confidently. He walked up to the bonfire in the centre and sat down for a moment, before standing up again and turning back to the doorway. Yorke quickly realised that this person was no hollow, and he scrambled to get the knight's attention.

"Hey! Hey you! Knight guy, look over here!" Yorke shouted, waving his arms maniacally to try and get this person's attention. The knight stopped for a moment and turned around, tilting his head at the crazy man. Yorke quickly sprinted down the nearby staircase, nearly tripping several times as he made his way into the courtyard.

"Jeez, man you have no idea how good it is to see another human!" Yorke exclaimed, skidding to a halt just in front of the knight. He looked up expectantly, waiting for a response. He didn't get any. Yorke straightened up, giving a confused look at the knight. "Uh, hello? Can you hear me?" Still no response.

Well, this was awkward.

Then, without a word, the knight turned around and sprinted back through the demon's chamber, rolling through the giant porcelain pots on his way.

"Hey, wait for me!" Yorke yelled as he ran after the guy, stumbling as he went. It was only now that Yorke realised how badly out of shape he was, and this crappy looted armor wasn't helping him move any faster.

His energy was already depleted as he reached the staircase leading up to a cliff at the edge of the asylum, running past Snuggly's nest as he went. She gleefully greeted him with a "You! You!" but Yorke had no time to respond, he had to see where the hell this guy was going!

He arrived at the top of the staircase just as the knight fucking _leapt off the cliff_, his arms spread in a V shape and his legs straight as an arrow. Yorke just stood there, mouth agape as he tried to process what had just happened. His utter brain-melting confusion was interrupted however by an incredibly loud caw, followed by the flap of huge wings.

A massive crow shot up over the cliff edge, and Yorke was surprised to see the knight held in one of its talons. Although Yorke couldn't see his face through the helmet, he could almost _feel _the knight's smug grin as he shrugged in it's grasp before the bird carried him away.

It took a good ten minutes before Yorke could finally formulate a response to what had just happened, though it was admittedly not the most eloquent. He felt as though maybe he should swear vengeance or something, make a comment about how he would find another way out of the asylum and then hunt down the knight, make him regret this choice. But Yorke had never really had a talent for the theatrics, so instead opted for something a bit simpler.

"You utter freaking prick," he muttered, still staring at the place where the gigantic bird had been.

"Caw! Prick! Caw! Prick!" Snuggly added helpfully. Yorke sighed as he sat back down, propping himself against one of the gravestones.

"Shut up, Snuggly."


	2. Chapter 2

Yorke heaved the heavy red gate open, stumbling backwards a little as he fell. Snuggly had mentioned seeing the Asylum demon smash something through the ceiling earlier. It was a wonder that Yorke hadn't heard this, but he supposed that he may have been a little _too _engrossed in hollow-face-poking at the time.

He wasn't entirely sure as to how long it had been since the Knight had left but expected that the giant bird would be coming back soon, hopefully it would be willing to carry him too. Until then, Yorke figured it couldn't really hurt to see if Snuggly was spouting crap again.

With one final pull the gate came open with a screech. Yorke let out a heavy breath before he walked through the now-open passage and began to ascend the stairs. Still tired from the day's exertion it took longer than he would have liked to reach the top, but he couldn't complain. He was afterall a certain degree more free than he had been in who-knows how long.

As he stepped onto the second level of the Asylum, he noticed something different from his previous visits. Normally there were less… well, less massive holes in the wall. It was a decidedly important difference, as holes in the wall didn't tend to happen unless someone was very angry at said wall.

His curiosity piqued, Yorke clambered through the rubble into a room cell he wasn't sure he'd ever noticed before. A quick scan of his surroundings rewarded him with two pieces of knowledge: A, his room wasn't the only one with water problems and B, Snuggly had been right about seeing someone get smashed by the demon. He knew this because sitting upon a pile of rubble, bleeding heavily sat _another _knight. This one wearing a blue tabard over his plate.

"Shit!" Yorke exclaimed with all the eloquence of a stuck pig. He rushed over to the prone man, slipping in the water a little but managing to retain his balance. "Gods damn it, are you okay?" he asked, putting an ear to his chest to see if he could hear a heartbeat. He immediately realised how stupid that was, remembering that the knight was still wearing his armor.

He racked his mind for a way to help the poor guy. He didn't have any estus, that weird orange liquid with apparently mystical healing qualities, so the most obvious choice was out. Nor was he a cleric, or even a man of remote faith, so a healing miracle was also not an pulled open his satchel, desperately searching for something of use.

_Shit, shit, shit! There's nothing here! _

"Fire, fire!" Snuggly screeched from her perch on one of the iron bars.

"Not now! Can't you see this guy is dying!?" Yorke shouted back angrily. He didn't have time for Snuggly's shit right now! He had to focus on maniacally throwing all the crap he had out of his bag in the mild hope that he'd have something useful!

His extremely effective attempts at saving the knight's life were cut short when Snuggly landed on his head flapping her wings desperately as she tried to direct Yorke towards the hole.

"Argh, get off! Alright, gods, what is it?" he asked angrily. Snuggly, still perched on his head simply cawed again, dragging him outside. It was honestly somewhat embarrassing that a full grown man could be lead about by a bird like that. When he was finally outside the room, Snuggly cawed again, flying down into the courtyard while calling back:

"Fire! Fire! It heals!" Suddenly Yorke realised what she had been trying to tell him. Wasting no more time he sprinted back into the cell as fast as his legs could carry him, and attempted to sling the knight over his shoulders. This met with about as much success as one would expect, Yorke immediately falling over in a rather unceremonious fashion.

He awkwardly scrambled out from under the knight's body, gasping for breath. _Fuck, how do I get him down there? _Unfortunately, Yorke already knew the answer. He just didn't like it. Resolving that there really was no other option he stood back up and grabbed the fallen knight's ankles.

"Listen buddy, I'm _so_ sorry about this," he offered before violently tugging on the man's legs and shuffling backwards. The scraping of metal on stone was like driving a knife into your skull again and again, but Yorke didn't stop. Once he reached the stairs, he shuffled back around so that he was behind the knight. It didn't look _that _steep, he told himself. "Heh, sorry about this one too," he added, before shoving the knight down the steps.

Yorke winced in passive pain as he watched the poor bastard rattle down the stairs, his head bouncing off each step with a resounding clank. Yorke was incredibly thankful that the knight was unconscious, otherwise this would have been a far worse ordeal. Then again, it would've probably been easier to get him downstairs if the guy had been able to walk a little, or at least limp. _Ah well, live and learn._

The knight finally hit the bottom of the staircase with a resounding clash, falling forwards and landing on helmeted face. Yorke quickly made his own descent, albeit a slightly more graceful one and proceeded to drag the man's prone form out of the stairwell; into the courtyard, and finally with a tired grunt Yorke hauled him up next to the bonfire which the other knight had rested at not too long ago. He wasn't entirely sure how these things worked, but he knew that they somehow were able to heal almost any injury in a matter of moments. He himself had once cut his palm, only to see it healed moments after by the bonfire's strange power.

He glanced down at the injured knight, noting that the flow of blood seemed to have stopped, and he could actually see the rise and fall of his chest again. Yorke allowed himself a small smile. _Fuck yeah, I just saved a freaking knight! _He straightened his back a little feeling considerably more heroic.

"See? Told you, told you!" Snuggly exclaimed as she fluttered down and took perch on top of the knight's helmet. "Fire, it heals," she added, as if to clarify that she had been right.

"Yeah, yeah you were. Thanks Snuggly, you did good." The bird seemed incredibly happy with that statement, puffing her chest out. Yorke was sure that he saw her beak curl into a smile, even though he was also pretty certain that it wasn't physically possible. _Don't question it_, he told himself as he always did when Snuggly defied reality.

A little later Yorke was sat next to the bonfire, idly chomping on a green fruit he'd found hanging off a tree outside. The big crow still hadn't returned, and he found himself feeling a little nervous; what if it didn't come back? What if he would actually remain stuck here until the day he died? The mere thought made Yorke cough up the mouthful he had and shudder.

If the bird didn't come back within a day or two, Yorke resolved that he would just have to find another way out of here. Maybe climb down the cliff face like a badass. All he really wanted to do was get home and if he met that other knight again, kick him in the shin for being a douchebag. The thought calmed Yorke a little bit and elicited a small chuckle.

He glanced over at the branch where Snuggly was perched, her chest still puffed out. Yorke tossed a small piece of the fruit over, which the bird caught with impressive speed in its beak. She tilted her head at Yorke who simply shrugged in response. Apparently deciding not to question his sudden charitable attitude, Snuggly wolfed it down.

Happy with his act of kindness, Yorke turned back to examine the knight who still lay comatose across from him. His armor was obviously of fine make, the steel shined even after all the muck it had been through, and the blue tabard was laced with gold. He had several pouches along his belt, and a brown scarf was wrapped around his neck.

To the knight's left were his armaments which Yorke had retrieved shortly after leaving him to rest. A shield which bore an extremely intricate crest, and a particularly shiny longsword. From what Yorke could tell, this guy was a big deal wherever he had come from.

Suddenly the knight began to sputter and cough, rising up from his position. This startled Yorke so much that he shot backwards, falling over. Quickly he pulled himself back together and sat back up to watch the newly-awakened knight. He pulled off his helmet, revealing a short shock of blonde hair and light blue eyes immediately identifying him as a man of Astora.

"W- wa… water," he sputtered. Thankfully, this was something Yorke actually did have and he quickly handed a flask over which the Astoran downed quickly. After a few more moments, he seemed to have steadied himself, and turned his eyes properly on Yorke, who immediately felt much smaller. "Who… who are you?" he asked, handing the flask back.

"Me? oh, heh, I'm uh… I'm Yorke. Yorke Anturus of Reeds," he replied, hoping that adding his surname would make him seem a bit more impressive.

"Reeds? Where is that? I've never heard of such a place." Yorke briefly considered lying, telling the man that Reeds was a great city, a kingdom in it's own right. One with knights and sorcerers and its very own castle, but one look at the Astoran told him lying wasn't the best way to get on good terms with him.

"It's… well it's kind of a town. A small one. Somewhere between Carim and Balder I think. Something like that, I'm not all too certain. Haven't been back home for a long while." He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

"Ah, I see…" the knight said, his expression unreadable. Then without warning he began to smile. "Well, Yorke of Reeds; seeing as I'm not wandering around mindlessly trying to kill anything that moves and you're sat here with me, I assume that I have you to thank for the fact that I still live?"

"Uh... yeah. Yeah that was me!" he nodded, hoping that he could at least pretend to be somewhat awesome.

"And me! Snuggly helps very much!" cawed the crow from nearby. Yorke had almost forgotten she was there, but she certainly hadn't. She flapped over, landing on Yorke's shoulder and cawing again. The knight paused for a moment at the arrival of a talking crow but simply shrugged it off and continued, deciding it was best not to question these things.

"Well then I am in your debt. My name is Oscar of Astora, and It's a pleasure to meet both of you," he said as he extended his hand towards Yorke. Without hesitation Yorke shook it, happy to see that he had apparently made a good impression.

"Nice to meet you too, Sir Oscar. If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?" Yorke asked as they released their grip on one another. Oscar sat back down next to the fire, and Yorke followed suit. He could see it in the knight's eyes that it was backstory-monologue time, and promptly picked his fruit back up again. This could take awhile.

"I came here... seeking the fate of the undead. A prophecy. 'thou who art undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the undead asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the undead thou shalt know.'" Yorke could almost hear dramatic music playing as Oscar spoke. The whole thing had a sense of epic-ness that was beyond him.

"I was hoping that perhaps I was the chosen spoken of in the prophecy. So I made my way here to begin my journey, escape from the asylum just as it said. As I traversed the roof of this place, I noticed a good few undead locked in their cells. Undead which didn't appear to be hollow. A true knight would never leave people to rot in cells and besides, if I failed maybe one of these would turn out to be the chosen and escape from this place. So I dropped the keys I had found earlier into the cell of another knight, hoping he would free the others as he escaped himself."

"Oh, that knight guy? I saw him earlier!" Oscar paused, his brows furrowing.

"Did you? Where did he go!?"

"He ran out that way, killed the fat demon too, then he just jumped off the cliff and was carried away by this huge crow. The prick left me here!" Oscar groaned, but nodded.

"So he escaped. Damn it all. As I said, I'd hoped that he would free the others but apparently I was mistaken. That man has no honour. After walking along for a bit longer I came into contact with the demon guard of this place, we fought but It didn't last long. The beast smashed me straight through the ceiling into that room, where the knight found me." Judging by the look on Oscar's face this probably wasn't a good thing.

"I was already going to die anyway, I could feel my humanity slipping away and I knew that this would be my last time, I wasn't the chosen. So, I told him of the prophecy, hoping that maybe he would succeed where I had failed. After I was done he stopped for a moment, before kneeling down and taking my estus, then the cretin just left! He didn't even offer to help me, simply left me to die. It was then that I realised he was no knight. I suppose I must have blacked out, as the next thing I remember is waking up here. Didn't expect to see the light again," Oscar concluded, rubbing his leg as if to check it really was intact and this wasn't just some dream.

"...Fuck," Yorke offered. "I knew that guy was a prick, but, well, fuck…" The two sat in silence for a moment, before Oscar piped up again.

"So, you think the bird will take us to wherever he went? The land of the ancient lords?" Oscar asked.

"I, uh, I suppose so. Honestly I was hoping I could get it to take me home, but thinking about that now, it doesn't seem likely." Oscar seemed to ponder this for a moment, before standing up with a smile.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude, Yorke of Reeds. After I am done in Lordran, I promise that I will see you safely to your home, how does that sound? I would appreciate your assistance on my own journey." Yorke tilted his head to the side for a moment in confusion.

"Done in Lordran? What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it. Clearly fate has decided I still have a role to play in this world, and yours must be intertwined with my own otherwise you wouldn't have found me. The way I see it, if we escape this place together then that makes us chosen too, doesn't it? It is my hope that we can cure the undead, do some good for this world. And if we happen across a certain estus-thief along the way, I certainly won't complain," Oscar replied, a self-sure grin on his face.

_Fair enough_, Yorke thought with a nod of his head. The very idea of journeying to the land of ancient lords terrified him, he was pretty certain that there was no more dangerous place in the entire world. Luckily, he would have a professional knight with him and if Yorke was totally honest, he didn't really have any other option. Stay here or try to make his way home on his own? Fat chance. Besides, Yorke had always loved the stories of adventure and heroism when he was a child, being part of one of those stories had been a dream of his. There was no chance he was going to let it pass him by.

"Alright, sounds good to me! Let's go show that douchebag what a _real _chosen undead, and, uh, human looks like!" Yorke exclaimed with all the bravado he could muster.

"Snuggly shall come too! She is tired of asylum, it no warm, no soft, she shall find new home, yes?" Yorke's first instinct was to say no, he wasn't really sure if he could handle having the crow with him for too long, but she had helped him save Oscar's life. Plus she had been his only real company for the entirety of his time in the Asylum, while he wouldn't call her a friend Yorke had grown accustomed to the strange bird's presence, even enjoying it a little.

"Alright, you can come if you want to. So I guess it's off to Lordran then? Or wherever it is that the big bird goes?" Yorke asked, standing up himself and stretching. A satisfying crack sounded from his back, and he resumed his normal posture.

"I suppose it is. It will be nice to have company again, it's been a long time since I have travelled with others. Maybe I'll get able to get some decent rest knowing I have others to watch my back," Oscar replied with a grin.

"Adventure!" Snuggly chipped in, flapping her wings excitedly. The sound of her wings was soon accompanied by a second, larger set. _Finally! _Yorke mentally exclaimed. It seemed as though the giant bird had decided it was time to return. He nodded at Oscar, before turning around, striding through the doors main doors of the asylum and…

falling flat on his face when he saw the two enormous knights coated in black armor standing at the top of the cliff, greatswords held as though they were light as a feather. They looked up at him and tilted their heads slightly, before flourishing their blades, and letting out a howl that sent chills down his spine.

"Well shit," Yorke muttered as the two began to storm towards him.


	3. Chapter 3

Yorke's limbs felt like lead. He was screaming at himself that he needed to get up _right now_, otherwise he would die but it didn't seem that his body cared. His body was a prick. He could feel the thundering footfalls of the gigantic demon-knight things as they powered towards him, a red light shining from their visors.

"Yorke! Get up, up!" screeched a familiar voice from his side. He wanted to tell Snuggly that he was trying, but it didn't seem to be working. Unfortunately, it seemed that his vocal chords had also stopped working. He found himself wondering if anyone would be able to tell of his death. If they did, he hoped they would make it sound a little less pathetic.

"Come at me, foul creatures!" yelled another voice, as Oscar ran in front of Yorke taking up position with his shield. He was trying to save him, putting himself on the line for someone he had met not twenty minutes ago. That was it. Suddenly Yorke's muscles seemed to unlock and he took advantage of this by scrambling up as quickly as he possibly could. Just in time for the first blade to hit Oscar's shield.

The knight grunted, shunting back a step but still standing firm.

"You two, get to a safe distance, I'll be right with you!" he called, not taking his eyes off the knight. Yorke was about to protest, when the second knight made his presence known by slamming his sword into the ground only a foot or two away, just in case anybody had forgotten he was there. Deciding that Oscar could probably handle himself against one of these things, Yorke did the only thing he could against such a powerful opponent.

He ran.

He pushed any guilt at leaving Oscar to fight by himself out of his mind, figuring that if he survived this he would profusely apologise. He just had to survive first. Still, despite all of his disadvantages, Yorke did have one thing over the Black Knight. Home turf. He'd spent who-knows-how-long wandering these corridors, and knew the layout of the place like the back of his hand.

Though saying that, he had noticed burn mark on his hand yesterday which he could've sworn hadn't been there before…

Still! The point stood. He was going to outsmart this thing, and he would feel awesome once he was done.

"Snuggly!?" Yorke shouted, hoping the crow hadn't left him.

"Yes, Yorke?" she replied, some of her usual harshness of voice seemingly missing.

"I need you to do me a huge favour, go unlock cell 3B, and be quick!" The little bird immediately peeled off from Yorke, turning back around and dodging past the knight that still was running after him. Yorke really hoped he hadn't been mistaken in assuming Snuggly was able to operate locks. Pushing past that, he turned a corner and began running down a much tighter corridor.

A quick glance behind him revealed that his idea had been correct, the size of his foe worked against it as it had to tilt it's body to fit through inside. Still, this barely slowed it down, and Yorke tried not to let this minor victory make him feel too confident. He couldn't afford to slip up, both literally and figuratively.

He continued running for awhile, before he managed to find his way into the western wing where his master plan would play out. He ran into the centre of the main room, and quickly turned around to see the Black Knight exiting the tunnel only a few moments later.

When it noticed that Yorke had stopped running, the knight seemed to stop as well. It raised itself back to it's full height, and entered something of a dueling posture, posing like one would at the end of a play or something.

"So, uh, I just wanted to say that you have some really pretty armor. Did you know that? 'Cause damn, that stuff is cool. All spikey and hardcore," Yorke called cheerfully at what he assumed was a 'him'. The knight tilted its head to the side, lowering it's weapons slightly as it tried to understand what was going on. He'd thought that the little man had stopped running because he had decided it was time to duel like a true warrior, not talk!

"If you don't mind me asking why are you here? Looking for that chosen guy? 'Cause he's not here anymore. Left a couple of hours ago. I guess you might be around for something else, or maybe you're just lost. It's not really any of my business is it?" Yorke chuckled. "Sorry, I get quite talkative when I'm nervous."

The Black Knight's patience appeared to have worn out, as it raised it's sword again and began to advance.

"Hold on, wait! I just need to ask you one more question; how badly does that helmet mess with your peripheral vision?" Just as he said those words, the knight seemed to finally notice the shuffling and moaning of hollows. It turned around just in time to see the mace before it buried itself in his head.

Yorke grinned as the rest of the hollows he'd gotten Snuggly to free exited a passageway to his left and seeing one of their fellows attacking the Black Knight jumped in, hacking and slashing at any part of him they could. Speaking of Snuggly, the crow flew over from behind her horde, landing on Yorke's shoulder with a proud squawk.

Their shared triumph was cut short however, when knight began throwing the hollows off of it, their bodies smacking into walls with sickening cracks. Yorke watched in horror as the warrior began cleaving the remaining hollows in two.

"Oh... damn it. Y'know I really thought that was going to work," Yorke commented idly, before turning tail and running again. Snuggly took off from his shoulder, but stayed by his side. Luckily enough for the both of them, the hollows were too busy getting demolished to try and eat them as well when they passed. Little favours.

"Crap, crap, crap!" Yorke shouted as he sprinted. He could hear the heavy footsteps beginning again, and knew the chase was back on. Only this time, he didn't have a plan.

A good few minutes of running later, they found themselves nearing the top of the asylum. It was night, which didn't really help in terms of visibility. Yorke was terrified that he'd trip up at some point, then it would be truly over. No chance of him escaping from something like that.

He ran down another corridor and came upon an iron door. Without hesitation he grabbed its handle and tore it open!

Or, he would have if it wasn't locked. _Shit! _

Yorke turned around and sprinted back out the room, hoping that the knight hadn't arrived yet so he could get back down the stairs. Unfortunately, it seemed as though his luck had run out. Just as he'd gotten into the open, the knight exited the tunnel and turned to face him. It was limping slightly now, and its helmet had been hit so hard that it had tilted, leaving the knight with an altogether lopsided head. It would have looked funny if he hadn't also been covered in the blood of a good eight or so hollows.

This was it. Nowhere left to run. With no better ideas left, Yorke grabbed the nearest rock and charged at his enemy screaming his defiance to the heavens. He thought he heard Snuggly telling him not to do it, but he wasn't really listening bad that dramatic final stands only work in stories. Instead of caving in the knight's head with some previously unknown strength he was simply backhanded so hard he went flying, only skidding to a halt a few inches from the edge of the balcony that overlooked the asylum demon's chamber.

Yorke coughed and sputtered, trying to get air back into his body. He struggled to rise, his arms barely able to support him anymore. If he was going to die, he at least wanted to die looking into his killer's eyes, eh, hollow-visor face thing. Head area. Whatever, the point still stood. He managed to roll onto his back, and watched as the Black Knight slowly advanced, like a wolf toying with prey it knew it had caught. Yorke tensed up ignoring the pain stemming from his ribs, a good few of which were probably broken.

The knight was almost upon him now, raising its sword for one final strike. Just as it was about to bring the blade down, Snuggly shot into view scratching wildly at the knight's helmet. She cawed maniacally, not letting up for a moment. This was it, this was his chance. As the towering warrior stumbled, trying to get Snuggly of his face Yorke pushed past his pain and rolled forwards, ending up about a metre behind his foe. Without wasting a second he ran, except this time he ran _towards _the enemy.

"Snuggly, move!" Yorke shouted, just before his shoulder connected with the off-balance Black Knight. It stumbled even further back, finally taking one step too far. The knight let out a satisfying howl as it fell off the ledge, and Snuggly detached herself from its face flying up to a safer distance. The two watched as it fell, smashing into and (surprisingly) _through _the tiled floor. A throaty roar sounded from the new hole, one which sounded disturbingly familiar. Hadn't that 'chosen undead' guy already killed the asylum demon?

Unfortunately they didn't have time to ponder this, or enjoy their utterly impossible victory. Now that he wasn't fighting for his life, Yorke was able to hear the clashing of steel still ringing from the courtyard followed by a "Die, foul beast!" that sounded a lot like a certain Astoran.

"Oscar!" Yorke yelled, immediately regretting it as his sides began to burn. Once again ignoring the pain he began to stumble down the stairs, nearly collapsing more than once. Snuggly flew with him, her presence seeming to keep him going. He came out onto the first floor of the asylum to see Oscar still dueling the second of the knights below, the plethora of deep cuts along the remaining Black Knight's armor standing testament to his skill with that sword and shield of his. Still, the beastly knight wouldn't go down, and Oscar was obviously getting tired. Every block was pushing him further and further back, pretty soon he'd be stuck in a corner.

_Not if I have anything to say about it. _

Yorke ran over to a broken section of the wall, and grabbed one of the larger chunks of rock. Seeming to understand what he was doing, Snuggly joined in and hooked her talons into the stone and adding her own strength (however little it might have actually been). With their combined effort, they managed to lift it though Yorke felt as though he might keel over at any moment from the exertion. He'd never felt so light-headed.

Still he pushed on, and the two carried it over to the edge of the floor just above where their friend was fighting for his life.

"Hey asshole!" Yorke shouted, drawing the knight's attention for a moment. "Suck it," he said simply, before dropping the heavy chunk of stone over the edge. It smacked into its head with a resounding clang, stunning it for a moment. Oscar immediately capitalised on this advantage, rushing forward, stomping into the knight's knee-pit to bring him down to the same level, before plunging his sword straight through its visor.

The Black Knight spasmed for a few moments, before going limp and slumping to the ground with a heavy thud. Panting heavily from his exertion, Oscar pulled his blade out its helmet and looked up with a smile at his friends. Yorke returned the smile before promptly collapsing to the ground himself.

"Yay... for not dying," he whispered, before the world around him faded to black and he lost consciousness. Truer words had never been spoken.

Yay for not dying.


	4. Chapter 4

Yorke awoke with a start. His eyes snapped open then immediately shut again as he realised just how bright it was. He quickly regretted the sudden movement and gasped, clutching his side. The fight with the Black Knights came back to him, and he suddenly felt a little less bad about the pain. It meant he was alive and that was a very wonderful thing to be.

The aching of his eyes had died down enough now to try and open them again. Slowly his eyelids rose, and he was able to take in his surroundings. Still in the asylum, specifically next to the bonfire in the courtyard where Oscar had been laying not long ago. Speaking of Oscar...

"You're awake! Thank the gods," the Astoran knight said as he approached, his heavy boots crunching the grass. It's funny how you only really noticed sounds like that after you've nearly died. Yorke slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, careful to not strain any of his muscles or anything.

"You bet I am, awake and alive!" he grinned. "How long have I been out?" Oscar glanced up for a moment, his mouth working silently whilst he cycled through his fingers.

"I'd say half, two thirds of a day? Something like that."

"Really? That long? Damn, I guess that fight really drained me," York commented, before a wide smile spread across his face. "Oh my gosh, I totally killed a demon-thing like twice my size, and dropped a rock on another. I'm a total badass!" he exclaimed joyfully. Oscar shook his head at that, but couldn't conceal his smile. He found Yorke's enthusiasm refreshing, especially considering where they were.

"That you are, my friend. I'm not sure I would've been able to defeat that one without you and Snuggly's timely intervention. That's twice you two have saved me," he replied. "And while this can't even come close to what you've given me, I hope you'll accept this token of my gratitude." At that, Oscar picked up the intricately carved shield of the Black Knight he had killed and held it towards him.

Yorke just stared at it, his jaw hanging open. He looked up at Oscar who nodded back. "Every hero needs a good shield, particularly considering where we are going" he said simply. Yorke carefully took the shield from his friend's hands, surprised by how light it was compared to what he'd expected. It was still heavy as shit, but not quite as bad as he'd imagined.

"Thanks, Oscar. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, my friend. Do you think you're able to stand?" York experimentally shifted his weight forward. When he didn't feel anything more than a dull ache he took Oscar's hand and stood up with some effort. He still felt awful but he wasn't broken.

"I'm good, just... let's not do any running, okay?" Suddenly Yorke realised that his immediate vicinity lacked a certain talking bird. "Hey, where's Snuggly?"

"You know, I'm not sure. After she watched me take you to the bonfire and made sure you were breathing she took off back into the asylum. I think she said that she was fetching something." That was fair enough, Snuggly was probably making sure she had everything she deemed important enough to take with her. Something Yorke decided that he should probably be doing the same.

"Hey Oscar, I think I'm gonna head over to my cell for a minute and grab a few things. You want to come?" Yorke asked, half turned towards the passageway that lead back to his block.

"No, that's alright. I think I'll do one last round up here and make sure there isn't anybody still trapped, or anything we might find useful." Yorke nodded before heading through the passageway, still limping every few steps.

It didn't take him long to retrace the path he'd travelled so many times before; left at the headless statue, right next to the mossy rock shaped like a hat, hop over the stream which ran through the entire asylum for some reason and then it was a straight hallway.

Yorke stepped around the hollow outside his cell who stopped wailing when he walked past. He watched as the undead carefully raised a hand, and poked itself in the face. It then cracked a somewhat lopsided smile and waved. Yorke let out a laugh, this was new! He'd never seen a hollow act so… friendly.

Yorke scanned the floor for a moment, before locating the stick he'd left there yesterday. He picked it up, and held it out to the hollow who stared at it with an utterly unreadable expression. Slowly, cautiously it reached forward and touched the piece of wood with a single finger. When it didn't come alive and try to eat him, the undead happily took it from Yorke and began waving it about. Pleased with himself, Yorke continued into his cell.

It was only now that he was preparing to leave that Yorke realised how attached he had become to this little place. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't warm and it certainly wasn't comfortable (except for that patch of moss in the corner) but that didn't matter to him. It was _his._

He ran a hand across the rough, cracked wall. He felt the grooves and holes until he found the right spot, the part with the loose brick. He took hold of the brick and slowly pulled it out of the wall, revealing a small hollowed-out section. Yorke placed the brick onto the floor, and reached his hand inside the hole. After a moment or two he found what he was looking for and pulled out a leather satchel.

All of his possessions were in this bag: a muddy green doll, a silver coin, a pendant, a pair of binoculars, a small keychain which he'd never found locks for and a few prism stones. All of these he had found in the asylum, none of them really belonged to him but their previous owners had apparently left them behind. Yorke was concerned that made them fair game. He attached the bag to his ramshackle armor as tightly as possible, before turning and preparing to leave.

Just as he was about to leave the cell, he heard a caw and watched as Snuggly fluttered into view holding a… an iron bar? She carried it into the cell, dropping what could now be identified as one of the asylum's prison bars in front of him.

"Hello, Yorke!" she called happily, perching herself on the broken former-gate to his cell. "Ser Oscar told Snuggly you were here, she is very happy to see that you are well!" The little crow emphasised this with a flap of her wings.

"Thanks, Snuggly. And thanks for saving me too, I didn't get the chance to say it earlier, but that knight would've killed me without you." She seemingly beamed with pride at the comment. Yorke wasn't even bothering to wonder how her beak could convey this anymore, and simply accepted that Snuggly was probably a little bit magical. "Oh that reminds me, what is this?" Yorke asked, gesturing towards the metal bar on the floor.

"It is the crow-bar! Snuggly realised that you did not have any means to protect yourself from nasties, and decided you needed a weapon. So Snuggly went to her personal stash and brought this for you." The crow-bar? Yorke nearly face-palmed at the awful pun, but he had to admit it had a nice ring to it. "Go on, take it. You must be able to smack the mean people in the head if we are to go to Lordran," Snuggly added with all the wisdom of a sage.

Deciding to humor the bird, York reached down and took the crow-bar from the floor. The first thing he noticed was how surprisingly clean it was. He was certain that there was a single bar in the entire place that wasn't rusted to the core, but this one seemed almost brand new! Aside from that, it really was just a piece of metal. A pointed piece of metal with a lot of weight behind it, but still a piece of metal.

A sword or actual mace would have been far more effective probably, but for some reason Yorke didn't want one. Not anymore.

Nope. The crow-bar was for him. it was after all from a friend, and wasn't friendship supposed to be able to conquer all odds? Or something anyway.

He smiled at Snuggly, sheathing the improvised weapon as best he could by shoving it in between a few straps on his belt.

"It's awesome, thanks Snuggly. How did you even carry it? It's pretty heavy."

"Snuggly is strong," she replied simply before flying up and landing on York's shoulder. "Are you ready to go?"

"I guess so, got anything else you'd like to get from your stash?" She shook her head.

"No, no. Snuggly is ready when you are." At that, York walked back out his cell, past the stick-hollow and back to the courtyard. Once they arrived they saw Oscar laid down with his hands behind his head on the grass. His equipment lay next to him, with the addition of a bag which he had presumably found whilst exploring the cells.

"Oscar, let's blow this shithole!" he called loudly. The blonde knight raised his head to see them walking towards him, then stood up. He quickly put his helmet on, followed by his bag and finally he took his weapons. Fully geared-up, Oscar looked every bit the knight of legend.

"I couldn't have phrased it better if I tried. Said your goodbyes?"

"Yep," Yorke replied, stooping down and taking his new shield from where he had left it next to the bonfire. For once, Yorke felt prepared. They could handle whatever the gods threw at them, so long as they stuck together.

Finally ready to go the trio walked back up to the cliff side, circling the hole which the Black Knight had fallen through. Yorke couldn't help peeking over the edge though, and was surprised to see what appeared to be an even _bigger _ asylum demon prowling below. He felt an immense relief that he hadn't fallen instead, even if he'd survived the fall there was no way he could have beaten such a creature. He rushed past the hole, suddenly scared he might trip into it.

The group stood atop the cliffside, and took in the view. They could see for miles, mountains stretching as far as the eye could see. The large crow was perched on a tree nearby, patiently waiting for them to do… something. It was only now that Yorke realised he had no clue how to make the bird carry them.

"Oscar? What do we do now?" He seemed to ponder that question for a few moments before turning back and asking:

"How did the other one do it?"

"He just jumped off, did a pose too but I don't think that's important." Oscar nodded, carefully taking a few more steps forward. York glanced to his side, and noticed that the large bird seemed to be tensing up, crouching lower and lower, its eyes narrowing. _Oh no,_ he thought.

Before he could even begin to warn his friend. the bird shot off it's perch, talons outstretched. It grabbed the knight and shot straight down the cliffside leaving Yorke and Snuggly just stood there, staring like idiots. For a moment all was silent. Yorke could hear the beat of his heart and the quiet breathing of Snuggly.

That all changed a moment later when the massive crow flew back up, Oscar in one talon and the other one open. Yorke barely had a moment to register what was going on before it grabbed him too and took off into the sky.

He had never screamed so hard before. He was pretty certain he'd never heard anyone shout as hard as Oscar did either, who yelled triumphantly to the heavens. He was free, and he was chosen. Snuggly seemed caught somewhere in between, as she let out an utterly indefinable sound of combined joy and terror, her claws digging deep into the leather of Yorke's armor.

Then they were gone: whisked away from the asylum to lands beyond, following the path already travelled by another undead. They marked the first time in the history of all Lordan's confusing, convoluted worlds that not only _two _undead had escaped the asylum, but also a talking crow and an incompetent human to boot.

And despite the terror he felt, despite the utter gut-wrenching fear that he would fall at any moment, to be dashed against the ground kilometres below them, Yorke was happy.

For he had never felt more alive.


	5. Chapter 5

Yorke hit the grass with a heavy thud, he tried to roll into it as he'd been told to but only really succeeded in flopping face-first into the ground. Perhaps not the most elegant landing, but nothing was broken, so that was a win in his book. A second thud a few feet away signalled his companion's landing, and with that the beating of large wings moved away. Within moments it had faded away, leaving the ambient sound of the wind and trees. Also squawking. There was a lot of that.

"Yorke! Oscar! Look, look, trees! So many trees, and water and can you see those walls and towers? They're so big!" Yorke grinned to himself, he could feel Snuggly's excitement was palpable. He tried to stand, but his legs still felt weak, and it took a good three or four attempts before he could steady himself. He'd never really been good with heights, and was pretty certain that a poor unsuspecting hollow had found itself suddenly coated with layers of vomit at some point.

Once he was standing up and felt confident he wouldn't fall over Yorke took in his surroundings, and found that Snuggly's excitement wasn't misplaced. This place was beautiful. Behind him were ancient-looking stone staircases leading up to an old ruined fort, or church, or something. He could make out a pool inside what appeared to be some kind of hall, and saw the giant bird coming to rest atop it. the entire place was covered in moss and grass, granting the place a sense of peacefulness. In front of Yorke was a small pit surrounded by steps, at the centre of which was a bonfire.

Yorke walked over to it, and sat himself atop a piece of rubble, relishing in the warmth and comfort the flames brought him. Oscar and Snuggly quickly joined him, the former sitting on the ground in front of the fire, and the latter taking perch on Yorke's shoulder. They all sat in silence for a moment, simply enjoying the sensation of being on solid ground, especially since it was particularly pretty ground.

"Snuggly likes it here, much nicer than the Asylum. She can feel the sun on her feathers properly," Snuggly said happily, fluttering her wings slightly. Oscar nodded, pulling up his visor so he could talk more clearly.

"Yes, I was told that Lordran was a dark, depressing place, but nobody mentioned how beautiful it could be." He picked up a pebble from the ground, holding it close for inspection before tossing it away. "Even the rocks are pretty," he remarked with amusement.

"Y'know, I could get used to this place. I mean, it'd need a few beds and maybe four intact walls with an intact roof, but it could make a good home." Yorke immediately banished the thought, no matter how nice it was here he needed to get _home. _He had things to do, people waiting for him!Besides, even if there was a small part of Lordran that was nice, what's to say the rest of it wasn't hell?

Yorke stood up, stretching and asked "So, what next? Where do we go?" Snuggly flew off his shoulder as he stood, circling above them.

"Well, I suppose we should try to find out where the Bell of Awakening is. My guess is somewhere high up, but it could be anywhere. Maybe there are others here we could ask? I can't imagine that nobody else would think to set up camp in a place like this," Oscar replied, standing up himself. Yorke was a little surprised at how organised his ally seemed to be, though he supposed he should have expected it. Oscar was a knight after all, they were used to this adventuring business.

"Alright, so shall we split up and take a look around?" Oscar nodded.

"Yes, though keep your wits about you. If you see that other one, the 'chosen', call me." With that Oscar wandered off, glancing this way and that. Yorke strolled off in the opposite direction, towards the ruined building, reasoning that if anyone was here they'd either have been at the bonfire, or within the place of most shelter. Snuggly accompanied him, the flapping of her wings providing a comforting accompaniment to his heavy footsteps.

As they ascended the steps, a question formed in Yorke's mind. "Hey Snuggly?"

"Yes?"

"Why were you in the Asylum? I mean, I was probably sent there 'cause someone didn't like me or thought I was undead or whatever, but what about you?" The little crow seemed to ponder the question for a moment, before letting out a dejected caw.

"Snuggly… does not know. She can't remember anything prior to the Asylum, it's all muddled like a swamp. All Snuggly can remember is white. White and cold." Yorke felt a sting of pity for his companion. While Yorke had a convenient lack of memory about how he'd gotten to the Asylum, he could still remember his life before it. A village, parents, a farm, a _sister._ To remember nothing… it was a painful thought.

He imagined that he would have given Snuggly a manly pat on the back, or perhaps an awkward hug if he was feeling emotional enough, but Snuggly, being a bird made this a somewhat difficult endeavor, so he settled for a heartfelt "Oh, that sucks," instead.

As they crested the stairs Yorke saw that the path split, one leading into the flooded church where the large bird had taken perch, and the other up some more stairs into another large ruin. Deciding that he'd had quite enough of wet stone rooms for awhile, Yorke picked the latter path. He and Snuggly strolled through a mossy section of wall, and found himself looking at a, uh, _well-built _man.

The man stood in the center of a large ruined chamber, in front of what looked to be at least fifteen pots. He wore black chainmail, and his light blonde hair was cut into a bowl. In his hands he clutched a spiked mace and multicoloured shield, which he raised slightly when he saw them. As they approached, the large man waved, still clutching his mace. With a little hesitation, Yorke awkwardly waved back.

"Ah! I thought I'd heard voices, I was about to investigate but it seems you beat me to it," he said, his voice was smooth with a hint of aristocracy, and Yorke found another word coming to mind: Sly. He resolved that it would be best to keep on guard, just in case.

"Hello!" Yorke called back, ascending the staircase into the chamber. As he came closer the man raised a hand, the universal symbol to 'back off.'

"Hello, young sir. I do not believe we are acquainted? I am cleric Petrus of Thorolund. Unless you have particular business with me, I'd appreciate keeping your distance. It's difficult to distinguish friend from foe here…" Yorke found this a little strange, and glanced at Snuggly who merely shrugged. Deciding it was best not to upset Petrus, he complied and stood where he was.

"Sure, if that's what you want," Yorke replied. "I'm Yorke, and this is Snuggly. We just arrived from the Asylum, and were wondering if we could ask you a question or two?" Petrus looked perplexed for a moment, but after a few more seconds he seemed to accept whatever was bothering him and move on.

"Asylum? You mean the Undead Asylum to the north?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Another escapee probably came through here a day or two ago actually, a knight. Did you see him?" Yorke asked, hoping that maybe they could catch up to the prick.

"Hmh… yes I do believe I saw a knight pass through here. He didn't stop for long, and I wasn't of any mind to talk with him anyway. I've been trying to make that elevator work, you see. If I were to hazard a guess though, I'd say he's heading up to the church. That's where most of them go, trying to ring the Bell of Awakening." Well, that saved Yorke from having to ask his second question.

"Huh, well thank you Petrus. That was really helpful," he said, smiling gratefully at the cleric who smiled back, though it didn't seem fully genuine.

"You are welcome, young sir. Now if you could leave me to my business, that would be-" Petrus was cut off from finishing whatever mildly hostile sentence he was about to say by a shout coming from the direction of the bonfire.

"_Yorke!" _Oscar shouted. Yorke glanced from the Snuggly, to the direction of Oscar's voice. Without wasting another moment, he sprinted back the way he had come. The sound of heavy footsteps indicated that Petrus was also coming, though for what reason Yorke didn't know.

He bounded down the staircase towards the main bonfire, and saw Oscar standing in front of a small passageway near the cliffside. His ally waved him over, a look of anxiety plastering his face. Yorke felt his chest tighten with worry, what could be going on? Oscar wasn't obviously hurt in any way, so what was wrong?

"Oscar, damn are you okay?" Yorke asked, panting heavily. Oscar simply gestured down the passageway. Cautiously, Yorke walked around the corner, gasping as he saw what Oscar had been pointing towards.

At the end of the passage lay a man, no, a hollow. He wore a combination of leather and chainmail armor, though it seemed that his chest armor was missing. A short crop of messy black hair hung from his head, and his cheeks were drenched in what might have been tears. The worst part, however was the broadsword embedded in his chest, effectively nailing him to the ground.

"What the… what the fuck!?" Yorke exclaimed in utter horror as the poor hollow pathetically clawed at the blade in its chest. Snuggly squawked and fluttered backwards a little. Oscar simply stood there, and watched the corpse. He'd seen enough death for this to not phase him as much, but the sheer brutality of it had shaken him still. No creature should be left like this, hollow or no.

Petrus rounded the corner, and let out his own gasp. His weapons fell from his meaty hands at the sight, and he began to sputter in disbelief.

"W-who did this to him!?" he asked, anger evident. Oscar gave a slight shrug, still not moving his eyes from the hollow. Petrus walked forwards and kneeled down in front of the broken man. "Poor Cecil…" he murmured.

"Did you know this man?" Oscar asked.

Petrus turned back to the trio and shook his head. "No, not really. We talked occasionally, and I knew his name but that was it. He'd been here far longer than I have, longer than anybody as far as I can tell, save for the firekeeper." He sighed. "He was such a morose man, but he didn't deserve this. He always said that maybe going hollow was preferable to watching all those other fools go out on their own adventures and never come back, but I do not think he believed it. He couldn't have, not looking at him now."

Yorke was taken aback. Up until now he'd assumed that Petrus was a man of very few words, but here he was.

"Is there any way to help him?" Snuggly asked, startling them all. She hadn't said anything for quite awhile, and Petrus merely stared at her in utter confusion.

"The crow can talk?" he said shakily. Oscar and Yorke nodded. Petrus stared for another moment or two, before shaking his head and offering another sigh. "No. All we can do now is bring him peace…" Petrus gestured towards Oscar's blade. "Sir Knight, would you be so kind as to do it? Death by sword is far less painful than death by morning-star." Without a word, Oscar walked over to the hollowed man and unsheathed his blade.

"Your journey is over now, you may rest," Oscar said, before plunging his sword into the hollow's chest. It went directly through the cloth shirt, piercing his heart and within seconds it was done. The hollow's arms went limp, and whatever vestiges of life it had still possessed left its body. Oscar leaned forwards and closed the man's eyes, noting that his expression had shifted from one of pain to a simple, calm smile. As if maybe he had finally gotten his wish.

Oscar shook his head, this wasn't right. This _curse _wasn't right. This man had craved an end more than anything, all because it was robbed from him. There was no peace for an undead, only a life of struggle. The only moment an undead truly got rest from their suffering was when they had died for the last time.

He had to fix this. He had to find a cure. If he hadn't been sure of this before, he was now.

Oscar stood and turned back to the others, determination in his eyes. "Yorke, did you find anything out? Any information at all that could help us?"

Yorke, who had been lost in thought flinched a little at the mention of his name, but looked up and nodded. "Yeah, Petrus here said that the Bell is up in a church somewhere. He said that the other one, chosen or whatever he's called went up too."

Oscar pondered for a moment. "Alright then, that's where we're going. We'll leave in half an hour, look around for anything that could be of use. Petrus? Can you tell us how to get to the church?" Petrus glanced at Oscar, before looking back at the body.

"He did it. That knight who came through here." Yorke immediately stopped moving, and Snuggly squawked in surprise.

"What?" Yorke asked, coughing slightly.

"I only caught a glimpse of him, but I'm certain that was his sword. Besides, no one else has come through Firelink recently. It must have been him." Oscar's expression darkened.

"I… I had been thinking that might be the case, but had hoped that I was wrong. We will make that bastard pay, don't you worry, but we need to know how to get after him." Petrus nodded. Yorke gestured back towards the bonfire and began walking away, eyes on the ground. He'd heard enough, and decided it would be better if he began searching.

"Yes, however I won't be coming with you. Cecil was a nice man, but I'm not going to risk myself for the sake of vengeance. Besides, my companions shall be arriving soon. I must await them here." _Coward, _Oscar thought. Petrus was making excuses, he just didn't want to leave the relative safety of this place. He'd seen his type before; the sight of a corpse would leave them pissing themselves and sputtering about the injustice of it, but at the very notion of risking themselves to stop the killer they would turn yellow. Still, he didn't say any of this. He needed the man's help.

"Go up the cliffside, it will take you to an aqueduct. There should be a path in it that will lead you into the parish, from there it's a straight run to the church." He stopped for a moment, as if in deep thought before continuing. "Oh, and take it slow on the bridge. I hear a group of crossbow wielding hollows have taken up residence upon it." Oscar thanked the man, before walking over to his friends. Yorke was running through the contents of a crate he'd found, and Snuggly was nowhere to be found. Presumably she'd left to find any other equipment.

"Yorke, are you alright?" He shook his head.

"Poor guy…" he said simply. "Do you really think the chosen did it?" Oscar didn't like referring to the knight as such, but let it slide. It was as good a name as any for the time being.

"...Yes, I'm afraid so." Oscar replied. "But we won't know for sure until we find him. He's got a full day or two over us, so we'll need to move fast if we want to catch up" Yorke slowly stood up, offering a weak smile to Oscar.

"Alright… okay yeah. I'm fine. We better get moving then, right?"

"Shortly, but Petrus mentioned a firekeeper and I'd like to see her first, see if she has anything more to tell us." Oscar leaned in close before adding "And keep an eye on Petrus while I do so, would you? I don't trust that man farther than I could throw him, which really isn't far at all. He acts pleasant enough, but something about him rubs me the wrong way." Yorke chuckled a little at the joke, but it sounded hollow still. He obviously wasn't very accustomed to death. He would be by the time their adventure was over, Oscar mentally remarked. It saddened him but it was the truth.

"In that case, I'll go check on Snuggly. She wanted to go check out the building he was in anyway, so I can do two things at once." The two parted, and Oscar made a beeline for the small staircase that lead below the main level. He found himself staring out at the vast ramparts which spanned for miles. Further out he could make out huge towers, and an incredibly large tree. At the very edge of his vision, he could make out mountains, and what might have been the ocean.

He exited the staircase onto a second layer of what Oscar realised was some kind of tower, maybe even a castle. He heard laboured breathing, and turned to see a girl knelt inside a small cell. _The Firekeeper_, he thought.

He walked closer to the cell, and kneeled in front of it to try and get a good look at her. The girl wore dingy, ash-coloured robes which appeared to be a size too large for her. Straw blonde hair hung from her head in dirty tatters, and she held her face in her hands. As Oscar drew closer, he could hear muffled crying coming from her.

"Hello? My lady, are you alright?" he asked the firekeeper. She looked up at him for a moment, but soon after dismissed him and continued her crying. It was now that Oscar realised her dress was not stained with mud as he had originally thought, but blood. Her legs were angled unnaturally, and must be causing unimaginable pain. Oscar began looking for ways into her cell, a way to free her, to help her. After a few moments, he gave up and resolved to ask Petrus what had happened to her. She didn't seem like she would be talking any time soon.

He walked back up to see Yorke and Snuggly sitting at the bonfire, carefully packing a multitude of items into Yorke's bag.

"Oh, Oscar. That was quick, did you find her?" Yorke asked as he carefully attached a series of firebombs to his belt.

"I did, but she doesn't seem the talking type. I was about to ask Petrus about her, where is he?"

"I'm here, sir knight." Petrus said as he approached from the ruined church. "And I can answer your questions. The poor child appears to be mute, she spends all her time in that chamber either crying or scrawling in that little book of hers. If you were thinking of trying to get her out, don't bother. She wants to be left alone, at least according to Cecil." Oscar wasn't sure how trustworthy Petrus was, but he also couldn't think of any reason for him to lie so accepted his information.

"Ah, thank you." Oscar was silent for a moment. He didn't like the idea of leaving her in such a state, yet there was no way to cure crippled legs. Nor was there a way to help someone who refused help. He resolved to deal with it later, currently he had more pressing issues. "Yorke, are you ready to go?"

Yorke affixed the last firebomb to his belt and stood, picking up his shield from where it lay on the floor and putting it on his back. "As ready as I'm ever going to be. Snuggly?" The little crow cawed and flew up to her familiar perch on Yorke's shoulder. She looked at Yorke and grinned in a way only she could. "We're good."

Oscar slightly bowed his head towards Petrus, before unsheathing his sword and walking towards the ridge that went up the cliffside and towards the aqueduct. This was where the real journey began. The real quest. He glanced back at his companions; an inexperienced boy and a bird. They weren't quite the troupe of legend, but they were certainly better than nothing and he was glad to have them with him. _Six eyes are better than two, after all. _

The group ascended the mountainside, walking past a substantial amount of corpses on their way. Apparently a large group of hollows had taken station here at some point, but that hadn't lasted long.

They climbed one more flight of stairs, and a powerful gust of wind made Oscar acutely aware of how easily they could fall to their deaths. He spotted the entrance to the aqueduct and darted in, Yorke and Snuggly following suit.

The floor was flooded with mucky water. This must have been a sewage system or something, and Yorke found himself wondering why the hell someone would install an entrance to their city inside a sewer pipe. It seemed ridiculous, but stranger things had happened. A little ahead he could see the an archway which was presumably the exit they were looking for. He tapped Oscar on the shoulder and pointed it out, though the knight had probably already noticed it. Still, Oscar smiled at him and nodded, then flipped his visor down and raised his shield. He was ready for a fight.

Realising that he was about to enter potentially hostile territory, Yorke took his own pilfered shield and raised it. He then reached to his belt with his right hand and pulled the crow-bar free. He immediately felt slightly safer with its weight in his hands, and he gave it an experimental swing.

Oscar tilted his head at the weapon. "Really?" he asked.

"It's better than nothing," Yorke said. "Besides, I like it. S'got style." Oscar shook his head and chuckled, before turning and trudging towards the exit. Yorke looked over at Snuggly, who pecked him on the nose lightly in some kind of friendly gesture. Whatever it was, he appreciated it as it calmed his already mounting nerves slightly. "Alright then-" he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "-Let's go kick some ass."

And with that, he followed after Oscar and began the first real leg of his journey.

The first real chapter of his story.


	6. Chapter 6

Oscar grunted as the broken sword struck his shield, shifting his weight to compensate for the added pressure. He shoved his shield back into the hollow's body, causing it to stumble backwards and off the rampart. He didn't stop to watch it fall, though, and immediately turned his attention to another two hollows who were shambling towards him, jagged blades raised menacingly.

The Astoran didn't give them a chance to pounce like their comrade had. He sprinted forward and thrust his straight sword into the first one's chest, kicking it off his weapon and quickly slicing at the second one's legs. It fell forward flailing its arms and howling like a mad dog. Oscar was barely able to backstep out of the way of its flurry of dagger strikes, cursing himself for forgetting that pain wouldn't slow these creatures as it would a human.

As soon as it had finished waving its weapon about he kicked forward, snapping its neck back with a sickening crack.

"Oscar!" warned a voice from behind him. Oscar twirled around just in time to see a third hollow coming at him. Before he could so much as raise a hand, a large chunk of stone fell from the sky, smacking directly into the hollow's face. It immediately crumpled and fell to the floor. Oscar looked up to see Snuggly cawing proudly and then flying back to wherever she was getting all of these stones. He'd been a little skeptical as to how useful a crow would be in combat, but she was definitely proving him wrong with her frightening accuracy, and, come to think of it, profound strength. Yorke was having more difficulty than she was.

As if on cue Yorke tumbled backwards, rolling over and coming to a stop about a foot away from Oscar. He quickly stood up and brought his shield to bear, blocking the oncoming attack. Every block seemed to consume more and more of his energy and Yorke could barely manage to keep his shield up. He'd never been in a fight before, not one like this. Without the Black Knight's shield he knew that he would never have lived this long. Luckily it seemed that these hollows couldn't handle the recoil of a blocked attack, as every time they struck him they needed to take a good few seconds before they could strike again. This gave Yorke ample time for a counterattack.

The hollow which had just struck him was only beginning to regain its balance when Yorke brought his weapon to bear, smacking it again and again with the metal rod. The crow-bar was proving surprisingly effective, cracking skulls and shattering bones in only a few hits each! The thing must have been weighted, otherwise Yorke would never have had the strength to fight these monsters off.

He brought the weapon down one more time and watched as his enemy fell to the floor. He wasn't able to savour his victory though, as Oscar stumbled back into him. Yorke turned to see his friend being attacked by four more of the creatures! Yorke quickly turned to help, putting his shield up in front of Oscar while he recovered.

Oscar nodded his head thankfully at Yorke, before throwing himself back into the fight. Yorke could do little but watch in astonishment as the knight cut down all who stood before him.

With a mixture of slashes, parrys, blocks and thrusts, Oscar made short work of the group. Oscar spun around to find more targets, except, there were none. This was strange, as he could have sworn not five minutes ago there were at least twenty more of the bastards coming after them; where had they all gone? He looked over at Yorke, who merely shrugged. He began to believe that maybe the rest had actually decided to retreat.

That is, until the firebombs hit.

Yorke barely managed to roll out of the way in time, clumsily skidding across the stone floor. Oscar quickly ran over and helped him up, scanning for where they had come from. _There! _he thought, spotting another group of hollows who were standing on the roof of what used to be someone's house. He was dismayed to see that the ladder which might have once been used to get up was warped and broken, leaving no method of closing on their attackers. They had no way to deal with this, and within a couple of moments they would be sprinting for cover.

Oscar hadn't expected things to go south so quickly. They'd only been walking through the abandoned streets (or ramparts as it turned out, the entire city seemed to be built on top of another city) before the worst happened. Someone had rung the bell. It was the Chosen, no doubt. The second it began tolling hollows had started crawling out of every crevice, every doorway, every damned _crate! _What had once been a somewhat leisurely, albeit tense, stroll turned into a desperate sprint for their lives.

They'd tried creating a bottleneck at a bridge, but that plan quickly failed when the sheer mass of bodies pressing against his shield nearly made Oscar fall, only managing to keep his balance due to Yorke's help. They'd even been forced to dump one of their own firebombs, but it had done little to thin the ranks. Snuggly had at that point began to pick up pieces of mortar twice her size and toss them at the hollows. While it didn't tend to kill many of them, this certainly did slow down the horde enough for the group to get ahead.

That lead hadn't lasted long, unfortunately, and they were soon forced to fight or risk running out of energy. Thus, they made a stand on one of the wider cobbled roads and began to fight back the hordes. Well, Oscar did. While Yorke tried his best to help, he was nowhere near as effective as the knight and so instead had decided it would be best if he simply tried to cover his back. Hit the few which got past Oscar in the face, and then resume shielding him. His shield was his greatest strength after all.

And now here they stood, after having fended off what felt like hundreds of hollows they were doomed to be burnt to death by damned urns. Urns. With no other real options Oscar raised his shield, Yorke followed suit and the two braced themselves for the coming impacts. He watched as the first hollow pulled its arm back slowly, then let loose sending the small brown pouch of death flying towards them.

But it never hit its target. No, for a black streak shot by and grabbed it straight out the air. Before anyone had a chance to react, the firebomb was thrown straight back at the hollows sending them flying straight off the building, their bodies alight. Yorke stared in astonishment as Snuggly looped back around and flew past them, cawing loudly.

"Praise the crow!" Yorke yelled joyfully. Snuggly was freakin' awesome!

"Run, run! More of them come!" Snuggly cried. Oscar didn't need telling twice. He didn't like running, but he also didn't like dying and it seemed that his dislike for dying was slightly more prominent. He stood and began sprinting, Yorke hot on his heels.

Yorke was panting heavily by the time they managed to ascend the staircase which lead towards the only exit they had, a tower. The second he managed to flop through the doorway it was slammed shut by Oscar.

"Quick, grab that barrel and roll it over here. Snuggly, check if there are any exits from this place, windows, anything!" The crow squawked and soared up the winding staircase, leaving the two men in the circular room alone.

"Oscar… what, what do we do now?" Yorke asked while he tried to regain his breath and rolled the barrel over. The knight took it and shoved it against the door, gesturing towards the other barrels and crates around the room.

"What do you mean?" he replied tersely, eyes locked on the door.

"He, he rang… rang the bell." Yorke pushed another barrel over.

"It doesn't matter, we keep going. We can ring it too, and if we can't at least we know where he is now. We'll catch up to him, figure out what to do from there." Yorke hesitated a moment before nodding.

"Yeah… yeah, okay. I guess that makes sense." He pushed over another crate, which Oscar stacked up against the door as well. It suddenly began to shake, a loud groaning coming from the other side. Apparently, the hollows had arrived. Oscar pushed himself against the door, holding it in place while shouting for York to try and find something better to barricade it with.

Without wasting a moment, Yorke scanned the room for something beyond a crate or barrel. Finally he spotted an old halberd, its blade so badly broken that it was little more than a large stick now. Luckily, a stick was exactly what he needed. He grabbed the weapon and ran over to the door, jamming it into the lock and halting any progress the hollows had been making. Oscar bowed his head slightly at Yorke then picked his weapons back up and rushed up the stairs. Yorke followed suit, unsheathing his own weapon as he ran. That halberd wouldn't hold for too long, but maybe it would give them the advantage they so sorely needed.

The two reached the second floor just as Snuggly came back down.

"Snuggly, where do we go!?" Oscar asked as he ran past.

"Up, we can cross a rampart to the next tower!" Oscar didn't respond, as he was already making his way to the next floor and across the rampart. Yorke had no idea how the knight could possibly be moving so fast, nor how he was sustaining such speed while wearing as heavy armor as his knight set must have been. The poor human was barely able to keep moving, let alone sprint at the same pace his friend moved at. Snuggly, seeming to notice this, slowed down slightly and offered him a bird-smile of encouragement. "Come, Yorke! We can't stop now. Snuggly saw the bell tower from the rampart, we're nearly there!"

With that in mind Yorke pressed on, ignoring the burning of his lungs. He would have time to rest soon, after they managed to escape from the hollows. The sound of wood splintering echoed from downstairs and he knew that the door had shattered. _Well that didn't last long._

The three made their way across the rampart at top speed, though Yorke couldn't help but glance over the edge at the world before him. On one side, woodland stretched out as far as they eye could see, while on the other lay the sprawling mass of the Undead Burg. He had to wonder how such a place could have possibly existed, it would have been such a confusing place to live!

That didn't really matter right now though. No, what did matter was surviving the hour. As they ran Yorke noted that the floor was utterly _covered _in deep grooves and small craters, as if some monster had been fighting here not long ago. The copious amounts of blood and tufts of brown fur backed this theory up, and Yorke suddenly found himself moving a little faster. If this thing was still around he needed to make sure he wasn't.

Finally they reached the other tower, and piled through the doorway at record speed. Although it probably wouldn't mean much, yorke shut the door behind him and Oscar kicked over a few barrels. Snuggly flittered ahead, scouting out the area ahead. A small staircase which lead out onto a _massive _bridge, complete with what seemed to be some kind of overlook or something which faced the rising sun, and woodland which surrounded the burg. Oscar and Yorke stumbled down, trying to figure out what they could do next.

They glanced at the bridge, which Oscar noted had a few crossbowmen upon it. _Ah, this must be the one Petrus spoke of_, he commented mentally. _Which means this is also the way to the church. _

"Alright, we need to get moving, now!" he shouted as he raised his shield. They didn't have time to take it slow across the bridge as Petrus had recommended. Snuggly picked up a stone in her talons and squawked in assent, while Yorke simply heaved his own shield in front of him. Unfortunately they were too late. Hollows began streaming out of the tower they had just descended, and Yorke knew there was no way he was going to get out of this.

A hollow leapt at him, axe held above its head. Before he could even begin to bring his shield to bear the hollow's head was crushed by a stone. Snuggly soared in front of him, cawing at the mass of hollows.

"You won't harm him!" At that she flew straight into the oncoming mass of soldiers.

"Damn it, Snuggly!" Yorke yelled, pushing forwards with his shield and crow-bar. He swung it left and right but made no progress. In fact he was getting pushed back! "Oscar, help me find her!" Yorke called desperately. What the hell was she thinking? Snuggly couldn't survive in there!

Then, as if she had been waiting to contradict him, Snuggly appeared from the centre of the group… holding a broadsword. Yorke just stared as the tiny crow began spinning faster, and faster, and faster. Once she had become little more than a blur Snuggly dropped from the air back into the mass of monsters. That's when the heads started flying.

Yorke simply stood and watched the hollows get slaughtered. Once Snuggly had begun her whirlwind of death, Oscar had also started to press forward once more. Caught between the skillful swordsmanship of a knight and the laws-of-physics-and-probably-common-sense-oh-hell-all-of-reality-defying attack of a crow the hollows soon began to crumble. Yorke would have helped, but he was still trying to wrap his mind around what was happening.

That cost him though, as two of the hollows broke off from the main group and tackled him to the ground. He could vaguely hear his friends calling his name but Yorke couldn't really respond. He was too busy trying to not die, a difficult goal in this particular situation. He jabbed upwards with his bar, aiming to spear the first through its eye then proceed to bash the other across the jaw!

Instead he stabbed it the chest, slowing the hollow slightly but in the grand scheme of things, doing nothing. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Now he was also unarmed aside from his shield which he couldn't even lift due to the _hollow standing on it!_

_Crapsicles, _Yorke thought simply.

The first blade descended, and Yorke rolled to the side dodging it by only an inch or two. The second fell and Yorke dodged it again, though this time it succeeded in cutting his shoulder. His enemy took its own shield in two hands and raised them for the last time. It was ready to end this.

And so was Yorke. He drove his knee upwards with all the force he could muster, slamming it soundly into the undead's groin. It suddenly went crosseyed for a minute, before dropping its shield and grasping at its wounded pride. Yorke quickly shimmied out from underneath it and stood, hastily grabbing his weapon from its chest.

"I'm okay!" Yorke called turning to face the main group of hollows. The group which now contained a black knight. "Oh," he muttered. "Fuck me."

The knight turned to face him tilting its head in recognition. Yorke glanced down at his shield, then back at the knight. This wasn't going to end well. It brandished its greatsword and began stomping towards him. _It's funny how they can convey emotion without a face or anything_, he commented as he scrambled backwards.

His scrambling was cut short though, when his legs met the edge of the balcony. He immediately tried to reassert his balance but there was no stopping gravity. He tipped over the banister, falling straight down…

To land on the next level. Yorke groaned from the floor, his head was throbbing and he was pretty certain he'd suffered a concussion.

"Ah, hello! You don't look hollow, no, far from it! Are you unafflicted?" asked a jovial voice, making Yorke spasm violently in surprise.

"Gah, bloody hell! Wh-who are you?" Yorke shouted as he looked up to see a strong looking man in what appeared to be homemade armor. The helmet was a glorified bucket with a red feather in it, the rest of the armor was made up of chainmail and iron. The final touch was the white and green tabard that he wore, a hand-painted sun literally grinned at him from the man's chest.

"Oh forgive me, how could I be so rude? I am Solaire of Astora, warrior of sunlight!" He punctuated that last statement by striking a pose, his arms extended in a 'V' above his head. Yorke remembered this being the same pose the Chosen had struck not long ago, this time however it felt a lot less…sarcastic. "Now that I've introduced myself, what is your name?"

Yorke was about to respond when the clanging of heavy boots sounded from the balcony. He looked over to see that Black Knight descending a staircase towards them.

"Oh gods damn it, listen, Solaire, I'd love to chat but right now I really need your help! My friends are stuck up there, fighting for their lives, and I can't help them because this thing is trying to kill me!" he sputtered pointing accusingly at the advancing knight. Solaire stared for a moment at the knight, then looked back down at Yorke.

"Are you saying… that you want to engage in… in jolly co-operation?" he asked cautiously, as if he was afraid of the answer.

"Yes! Yes, _please_ help me!" The second Yorke finished speaking Solaire was gone. Yorke turned to see the strange man running straight at his foe, sword in one hand and shield in the other. He watched as the man drew closer, the knight began to wind up for a thrusting stab. Rather than try to block it, or even roll out the way the knight instead _leapt into the air and dropkicked the hulking knight! _Yorke could simply stared as it wobbled slightly then fell to the ground.

Solaire whipped around, the sun shining brightly behind him.

"Where are these friends of yours, young man?" he exclaimed happily. Yorke just pointed up at the bridge, still staring at the fallen knight. "In which case, let us go!" He ran over, hoisted Yorke up and then dragged him up the staircase towards where the sounds of battle still emanated.

They arrived to see Snuggly and Oscar still dismantling hollows. When she saw that he was okay, Snuggly immediately stopped spinning and tossed the weapon aside, which promptly buried itself in the skull of an oncoming hollow. She shot over and landed on Yorke's head, pecking him on the nose happily.

"You're alive!" She glanced over at Solaire. "Who's this?" Yorke found himself asking the same question to himself, who actually was this guy?

"Solaire," Yorke replied simply, as he had no other answer.

"Guys, help please!" came Oscar's voice from the other side of the amassing horde. Yorke could have sworn there were less of these things earlier…

Well that didn't matter now. He whipped out his crow-bar and began cracking skulls. Well, bruising them at least. The point was, he was fighting. Solaire himself was driving home with vigour, clearing a swathe through the undead. He was a blur of slashes and punches to rival Oscar. He wasn't quite as fast, but made up for that in obvious strength and extravagance. Every kill was supplemented by a dramatic pose or exclamation of 'Praise the sun!'

They battled through the ranks of moaning hollows and soon made their way to the mouth of the bridge where Oscar stood, fighting with the same finesse and skill that he had been earlier. Yorke found himself wondering if Oscar even could get tired. He seemed almost inhuman.

"Glad you're okay," Oscar said as he parried another attack. "Any ideas on what to do?" Solarie took the initiative here.

"I do! Follow me, my friends. We fly!" he shouted, then twirled around and began to sprint across the bridge at top-speed. Oscar stared for a moment, before shaking his head and running after the strange knight. Yorke followed suit and Snuggly went with him. She kept close though, not wanting to lose her friend again.

As they began to pass the quarterway point, Yorke heard the beating of massive wings. For a second he thought it was the bird, but when he heard the throaty screeching he knew it couldn't be. It sounded almost like a dragon, but they were all dead, weren't they? The roar came again, crashing through his very soul, and Yorke just had to look. He turned his head to see a monstrous crimson dragon flying straight at them, fire streaming out the corners of its beak-like mouth.

"Oh, fuckmuffins. _Guys!_" he called, waving wildly with his weapon at the oncoming dragon. Oscar turned to see it and shouted a curse of his own. Yorke could hear the anger in his voice, none of them wanted to die.

Solaire sheathed both his sword and shield, then twirled around and began running backwards. "Have no fear, the beast shan't touch us!" At that his hands started to glow with golden energy, sparks flowing around them in a slowly growing orb. Just as the drake reared its head back to release a gout of flame his hands whipped up above his head and two spears of lightning coalesced into existence. Without wasting a second he tossed them both at it, striking the beast in the side its head. Rather than burning their group it instead released the torrent of fire upon the hollow horde, finally putting an end to their threat.

The quartet sprinted the rest of the way across the bridge and darted into what looked to be some kind of altar. Oscar grabbed a nearby lever and pulled it, sending the massive iron gateway crashing back into the ground and protecting the group from the drake's wrath.

Yorke fell forwards onto his knees and grasped at the bonfire which sat in the centre of the room. The second his hand came into contact with the strange sword which marked each bonfire it lit up, burning softly and generating the warmth which they were known for. Suddenly all of Yorke's pains numbed, and his previous exhaustion began to give way to simple tiredness.

He looked at the cut on his shoulder which was now sealing before his very eyes. It was slightly disconcerting to watch his own flesh weave itself together, a bit like a spiderweb. He probably would have thrown up, but he couldn-

No, wait.

He could.

Author's Note 1:

Hey everybody! Deepshift here. First I'd like to begin by apologizing for how late I've been with this chapter, and to deliver the unfortunate news that for the time being the story will probably update less frequently. Life has become quite a bit busier, but I definitely intend to continue the tale. Anyways, here's a message from the desk of the editor. Nope, not NathanEryk, the usual and awesome editor but instead my friend Stripes who is joining us occasionally.

"Hello, all, Stripe here, resident American and DeepShift's number one fan. I've talked him into putting this at the bottom where all five of you readers can see it. His usual, amazingly shiny editors who actually do things are AFK for a while, so y'all are stuck with me. Don't worry, we're gonna have a good time."

Anyway, thank you all for reading, and praise the crow!

Edit: Also, thanks to everyone who pointed out the issue with formatting on the original upload. Much appreciated ^^


End file.
